Family Tales

Can you remember where you were when you were growing up and your father told you a story? I hope you had that experience, as it was so foundational in my development. His story's often came to him as he told them and they were new and fresh and exciting. One of my favorite and most memorable occasions came when we were in England. My family had moved there when I was eight. My father was writing stories. We had traveled to Wales. As we were crossing the rolling hills, my mom spotted an especially large hill and at it's base a place to park and walk. My dad immediately followed her hand and pulled the car over. We walked to the top of that mountain. My sister, mother, dad, and me. On the top of the hill, sat, like enormous old men, stuffed from Thanksgiving, immense round rocks. It seemed odd that they had settled this hill top, as the trip to the top seemed more than a fat man would attempt. Yet, there they were, as if dropped from heaven, and on one of the rocks we sat. My young eyes peering in wide excitement at the green blanket stretching as far as I could see. A river, like a silver ribbon, wound its way among the hills. Dad pointed to a large bend where the river wrapped around so sharply that it nearly touched itself again, before veering off in a new direction. "There," He said, "Is where our story begins..." I remembered looking up at his face, ruddy from the cold air and the long climb, and smiling as he began the story of a small boy that lived in a cottage, on a river, by that bend. I became that boy, as I sat, mystified by the hero and his quest to find the reason his river was drying up. Of course, there was a dragon, there has to be a dragon, and as he masterfully worked the story until the sun began to get drowsy and nod its head, fighting to the bitter end to hear the fate of the boy. The ending never came. It was getting dark and the trip back to our car was a long one. I still haven't heard the end of the story, but my dad promised, that when my daughter was old enough, we would return to that hill and hear the rest of the story. For now, the river is dry and our hero frozen with the dragon that caused it all. I hope he can hold still long enough.